The Boy in the Lighthouse
by Illead
Summary: "A self-taught boy in an abandoned lighthouse; a curious merchant's son who follows him to the lighthouse. He learns the boy holds up the lighthouse as a final stand for his mother's tragic fall into the water. However, when the town finds out about his existence, they try to burn the lighthouse, with the boy still inside." No character death. AmeCan, rated M, for swearing.
1. Ch 1: The Strange Boy

**Author's Note**: This will be a small chapter series (about 10 chapters will suffice; it's about a self-taught boy in an abandoned lighthouse, and a curious merchant's son follows him to the lighthouse, and learns the boy holds up the lighthouse as a final stand for his mother's tragic fall into the water. However, when the town finds out about his existence, they try to burn the lighthouse, with the boy still inside. There is no character death, just a spoiler. And of course, there is love… Because anyone can tell you my stories are too romantically sappy for my own good. _I do not own Helalia, just f.y.i. _I think I'll update this every Wednesday, to be regular about this. Anything you want to see in this fanfic, let me know before the next Wednesday I write the chapter. And, as always, enjoy, enjoy, friends.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

**Character Role (age) – Name**:

**Blacksmith (32)** – Matthew's cousin, Francis Bonnefoy (France)

**Blacksmith's Daughter (10)** – Francis' adopted daughter, Michelle Mancham-Bonnefoy (Seychelles)

**Lighthouse Boy's Mother (34 upon death) – **Jeanne of France (Joan of Arc)

**Lighthouse Boy (16)** – Matthew Williams (Canada)

**Merchant (37)** – Arthur Kirkland (England)

**Merchant's Son (17)** – Alfred Kirkland (America, without the Jones)

_End of note._

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 1: The Strange Boy_

**_ - [Cue Story] –-_**

There was movement in the town, hustling and bustling and general business deals; but it bored him beyond anything that _could_ bore him. He was the son of a merchant, and he liked selling the jewelry and furs his father took when he went out to sea. After his father returned, one day stood out from everything else. There was a boy he'd never seen before, a boy that didn't want to be found, and he wanted to know why. With his father busy, he watched the boy leave the blacksmith's shop with a coin purse. He must have worked there, because the blacksmith and his daughter waved. After a moment, he looked to his father and blinked, before going to help someone buy a coat for the upcoming winter. It would be a cold one, no doubt about it. His father was convinced.

"Uh, okay… You look pretty skinny, so…" Alfred blindly picked out the coat, handing it to the boy, eyes wide a fraction later. "Hey, it's you! That boy, the one that was just at…" He stopped at the warning look on the other blonds face, a laugh nervously. "Nah, 'm just seein' things. Anyway, that'll be, uh, I think… Hey, Dad, how much is this fur?" He held the coat out to his father, who showed a four, then a five. Nodding, Alfred watched the boy curiously as he got out forty-five gold coins, and placed them delicately in Alfred's hand. The moment Alfred turned to give the money to his father, the boy and the coat were gone.

But the boy was easy to track, he'd dropped a shoe made of leather, and picking it up, he found an identical shoe, and began to chase after the boy, not getting any attention from the townspeople. The boy's eyes were so pretty, a violet color, and he found it contrasting to his own cerulean eyes. Smiling lightly, Alfred picked up speed, soon seeing the lighthouse that had some tragic accident, and no one was there anymore. So if the boy went in there, he had to be pulling some prank, right? The American-born boy followed him inside, a shiver at how the torches flickered, though weren't going to go out anytime soon.

After the steps came a door, a thick, wooden door, which he pulled open carefully, not falling down the many steps, enchanted by the many books that were on neatly made shelves, and the boy, sitting at a mahogany desk, more enchanted by his focus on the book in front of him, scribbling something down seriously. "Hey, um… You dropped your… Uh… Shoe…" Alfred frowned when the boy didn't seem to hear him, clearing his throat. "Uh, hey…" He stepped into the room, the door banging shut after him carelessly. "You, uh, you okay…?" He finally reached the boy in three long steps, tapping his shoulder lightly.

The boy jumped and muttered a few things in French before glancing at Alfred, finally understanding when he saw the shoe. "Oh… It's the merchant boy. Um… Thanks, for returning my shoe and all…" He looked away and sighed, putting it back on his foot, determined to continue, before the older-looking boy tapped his shoulder again. He sighed in annoyance, turning to glare at the boy, only to see him idiotically grinning at the view of the ocean spanning outwards from the lighthouse port. Saying nothing, he stood silently and leaned on the rail, seeing no ships. "Impressive, eh?" Chuckling, he poked the boy in the side.

Alfred gave a light yelp in surprise but nodded when he recalled what Matthew said. "Totally is… Don't see that ever'day, huh? I'm Alfred, by the way, Alfred Jones. My dad's name is…"

"Arthur Kirkland. My cousin and his daughter are sort of friends with him… From a distance," Matthew shrugged, taking Alfred's shoulder to lead him out. "You should go back… I never talked to you, okay? You really, really can't be here, because no one's supposed to know I'm here." The lighthouse boy sighed quietly. "But, if you must know, my name is Matthew… No last name's needed, right?" He got Alfred out the door and sighed quietly. "Here, give this letter to Francis Bonnefoy or his daughter, Michelle, but don't say who gave it to him. He'll understand." Giving him a letter, Matthew offered a hesitant smile. "And… Uh… Thanks for the shoe. I probably needed it."

Alfred nodded and grinned, bringing Matthew into a hug tightly, to which the boy blinked in surprise. "Not really talkative when ya don't know someone, huh?" He laughed lightly, naturally, before releasing the stunned and blushing boy. Matthew was… He was cute, when he smiled or blushed like that. If anything, he probably liked the same gender or was just embarrassed. "I'll prolly have some message back, though, knowing Francis… He's always like that." He shrugged, not saying he saw Francis leave at the end of the day out of town, unlike everyone else in the village. "Is it just you here, all alone like this, Matthew? 'Cuz my dad could take ya in…"

"Eh? No… No… I can't. This lighthouse has always been my home, and only two people can know about it. I'm sorry, Alfred, but I need you to keep it a secret, okay? I'll… Um… I'll give you one thing, material or not, if you keep my secret and my identity unknown, okay?" Matthew looked away shyly, clearly shy that he was offering to do this, just to keep anyone but Francis or Michelle from knowing he didn't die with his mother the day she fell into the water. "Anything you want, you name it." Looking back to Alfred, violet eyes concerned he would ask too much, he stepped onto the first step going up to the lighthouse.

"Well… Alright, then, Mattie… I want a kiss, and to come back one more time on my own, 'kay? Seal it with a kiss, an' I'll keep everything I saw today a secret. Cross my heart and hope to die," Alfred muttered, making the gesture coming with the words, a grin brightly, not noticing Matthew grimace, then nod. After a few moments, shyly, Matthew kissed his lips faintly, like he had never kissed anyone before. Once the kiss ended, Alfred held out his hand to shake. "We got a deal, then, Matthew-without-a-last-name?"

Matthew smiled quietly and nodded. "We have a deal, Mr. Kirkland," he murmured reservedly, and waved as Alfred ran off, no one seeing him leave, as he shut and locked the lighthouse from the inside, awaiting Francis and Michelle in a few hours, in one of the hidden rooms of the lighthouse. Going back up the steps, Matthew closed the large wooden door to the window-viewed study, blowing out the torches on his way up, lighting a candle with a match and beginning to study his newest book, content Francis would get the letter.

**_- [To be continued…] -_**


	2. Ch 2: Will the Circle Be Unbroken?

**Author's Note**: Hello again, everyone! It's the second Wednesday, so here we go. I will also be including the children's folk song "Will the Circle be Unbroken," and the version is from the artist The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. I don't own the song or the artist, and we need a little happiness before shit hits the fan, so that song is perfect. This story takes place somewhere near, or in, the mid-1800's, by the way. I've always loved it. So, as always, enjoy, enjoy, friends.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of note._

_**- [Pervious Chapter] –**_

_"Matthew smiled quietly and nodded. 'We have a deal, Mr. Kirkland,' he murmured reservedly, and waved as Alfred ran off, no one seeing him leave, as he shut and locked the lighthouse from the inside, awaiting Francis and Michelle in a few hours, in one of the hidden rooms of the lighthouse. Going back up the steps, Matthew closed the large wooden door to the window-viewed study, blowing out the torches on his way up, lighting a candle with a match and beginning to study his newest book, content Francis would get the letter."_

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 2: Will the Circle be Unbroken?_

_**- [Cue Story] –-**_

When the second week came by, Francis asked for Alfred to watch his daughter, to which Arthur said that was acceptable. What he didn't expect was to hear music playing, from the open doorway of the lighthouse sat Matthew. His eyes were shut and he had the fur coat on to stay warm as the snow had come early, feet bare but not blue yet. As the Canadian continued to sing, he looked to Michelle, who signaled him to be quiet as he finished a song, playing a sort of stringed instrument, which looked very home-made. As he held his coat around Michelle, she leaned into Alfred and closed her eyes, swaying lightly. Alfred himself watched the other teenager's face smile honestly, while getting lost in the music. It was memorizing.

"_We sang songs of childhood/ Hymns of faith that made us strong/ Ones that Mother Maybelle taught us/ Hear the angels sing along,_" Matthew's soft voice was rich with sound, a perfect sound in Alfred's opinion, as he resisted the urge to sing along with him like Michelle was, her voice squeaky. That only made Matthew smiles more, not once opening his pretty eyes, continuing to sing. "_Will the circle be unbroken/ by and by, Lord, by and by/ There's a better home a-waiting/ in the sky, Lord, in the sky._" Not stopping in the cold, Alfred took a deep breath and listened, singing along with Matthew and Michelle. "_Will the circle be unbroken/ by and by, Lord, by and by/ There's a better home a-waiting/ in the sky, Lord, in the sky_." After he stopped, he took a deep breath.

Alfred stopped just before Matthew, who opened his eyes and looked up to see it wasn't just Michelle, but Alfred as well, a look of surprise, looking away shyly. "Mattie, you shoulda told me you could sing like that… That was really, really pretty," the American said, as he approached Matthew, noticing he was shyer than he could imagine. "Mind if we come in? Francis asked me to watch his daughter while he did an errand, and she really wanted to see you." After the blond nodded, the American sighed contently, watching Michelle run in with his coat, as he entered calmly, hearing the door lock. The lighthouse looked different by day, but just as pretty.

"Would you… Um… Like some breakfast, Michi, Alfred? Did Francis get the letter, then?" The Canadian pushed a door that led into a kitchen, as Michelle skipped inside, and Alfred cautiously entered, surprised with all the secret doors blending into the walls, Matthew shutting the door, and only the other side of the door actually looked like it. "Here, Michi, let me take his coat from you… I got firewood last night when everyone went to bed." Putting a log in the fire, he kept a black eye hidden, though Alfred could tell Michelle noticed it. Maybe it was best not to ask, really… But if anyone was beating him, he wanted to know, to protect him somehow.

"Oh, sure… I think it's still morning; yeah, yeah, I got a letter from Francis. Didn't read it, I promise, Mattie," Alfred grinned, sitting on one of the four stools carefully after seeing the ten-year-old Michelle do so before him. Putting the letter on the table, Alfred smiled lightly to the blushing Matthew, who blushed often when he just smiled at him, and had since he sang along with his playing that song. "Hey, Mattie, what was the song you were singin'? It was really pretty, an' I noticed Michelle knew it really well, too… You played it before?"

Matthew blinked, making eggs and focused on the stove, blushing brighter than before and laughing nervously. "Eh? Oh, that song is a child's folk song, called 'Will the Circle be Broken?' My mama used to sing it before she unfortunately passed away, some time ago… I sing it to cheer up when I'm all alone. Francis taught Michelle because he's my cousin, and she likes it, so… I didn't think anyone would hear me today. No one… Usually does, because I have to stay hidden, but you sang along really nicely, Alfred." He smiled sheepishly over his shoulder. "Did you really like that song? It's not really popular around here… S-So... Er..."

"Yeah, dude, it was totally awesome; and don't tell my dad I said that, okay? Er… You'll never talk to him, but ya know…" Alfred shrugged, a laugh nervously as he watched Matthew put a plate of eggs for Michelle in front of her, as the girl began to eat politely, and then seeing a plate in front of himself. "Er, thanks, Matt… They look really good and taste even better." After he started to eat himself, Matthew began to clean up the pan and the utensils. "So, ain't ya gonna eat? I'm not sure how you can survive on less food than me when you prolly get food from Francis, if he's your cousin. Yeah?" Tilting his head, he smiled to the Canadian as he sat across from him.

"Oh, well, yes and no, really… I ate earlier, around six in the morning. Though Francis does go to great lengths to get me food I can keep cold and survive for one month, and then he does it all over again. I know he does a lot of work, but I watch his daughter in return, and I guess watching her is more rewarding than you would think. She's family, yes, but it gets really lonely out here, alone all the time. I eat dinner with Francis and Michelle, but other than that, I'm all lone to study and learn everything I can on library books Francis gets me. Er… There's a library out at the next town, and I take notes. That letter held an important like my father sent my mother in one of her love letters." He grinned, a bright grin, humming lightly as he seemed to sway while standng.

"Huh… I see, Mattie, that's actually really interesting, ya know… So you try to piece together your parents, right? Did ya ever know your dad?" Alfred finished his breakfast, and Matthew got to washing the plate and fork, shaking his head in reply for a moment, and Alfred didn't press anything into that. "So ya've lived here all your life, and your mother died by the fall into the ocean. They say it's haunted here, that there's a ghost woman who looks like her little boy in the right light. The town talks about ya like you gonna kill us all one day. It's sad, really."

"My papa died before I was born, and my mother decided to raise me to the best of her ability, an honorable thing, really… I learned a lot from her. Her name was Jeanne… She was beautiful. I have a painting of her from my father, when she was 19, right before he died he shipped it here when they moved in. No one ever knew about me because she couldn't feel well enough to move when carrying me. It was her reason to raise me to read, write, and be educated all on her own, running this lighthouse on the side. It's… Well, it is what it is, eh?" He smiled lightly, washing Michelle's dishes. "Let me teach you how to play that song I was singing the end of before Francis gets back, okay?" He grinned again, blowing a kiss to Alfred, and Alfred nodded in agreement cheerfully.

_**- [To be continued…] -**_


	3. Ch 3: Jeanne

**Author's Note**: Hello again, everyone... Happy Wednesday, a.k.a update day. In seven Wednesday's, we'll see the finale; on a side note, my foot is bothering me more and more lately. It's mildly distracting, and isn't exactly pleasant. But, after all that, here is my third chapter. I am using a really terrible PC, and I am not a fan of PC's, but it's all I have. Keep that in mind if you see any errors I missed, because I have no word and only I update my stories. I'm planning on doing a multi-chapter for Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome where she's a painter and he's her muse, when he accidentally gets her prgnant and carries a little boy, Heracles. That would be a RomAlso, I am recently beta'ing a story, so that keeps me busy. If you want to know what it is, I could give you a title and category. As always, enjoy, enjoy, friends. Sorry it's shorter than usual, it's ten minutes to Thursday.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of note._

_**- [Previous Chapter] –**_

_" 'My papa died before I was born, and my mother decided to raise me to the best of her ability, an honorable thing, really… I learned a lot from her. Her name was Jeanne… She was beautiful. I have a painting of her from my father, when she was 19, right before he died he shipped it here when they moved in. No one ever knew about me because she couldn't feel well enough to move when carrying me. It was her reason to raise me to read, write, and be educated all on her own, running this lighthouse on the side. It's… Well, it is what it is, eh?' He smiled lightly, washing Michelle's dishes. 'Let me teach you how to play that song I was singing the end of before Francis gets back, okay?' He grinned again, blowing a kiss to Alfred, and Alfred nodded in agreement cheerfully."_

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 3: Jeanne_

_**- [Cue Story] -**_

Arthur Kirkland was not a man to be messed with, though his son was certainly the exception. Alfred sat bored with his father, already missing the cute face that was Matthew, while he sat reading a book his father bought him. Recently, within the last three days, his father worried he was seeing ghosts. Jeanne, the woman in the lighthouse, Alfred mumbled about her story more often than he would have liked to know, but he was sure it was a phase. No one kept on the woman's story that long, really... It was tragic, sad, and unfortunate, but he could manage his son at last learning it. After a few moments, he watched Alfred shut his book and sat up. "Alfred."

Looking up at his father's sharp words, he titled his head with that stupid lopsided grin. "Yeah? What's up, Dad?" After tilting his head, the American tilted his head to his British father. "If it's about the woman at the lighthouse past the town, then 'm sorry it bothers you. I just... I wanna know, and Francis told me what his cousin felt, what she was going through... She had a tough life, Dad, it's not very fair to say I can't know her history." Alfred glared at him sharply, getting up from the chair he sat in. The stands were closed, and he felt nothing wrong with getting annoyed with his father. "Let me be independant sometime."

Arthur frowned before gripping his son's shoulders. "I am going to tell you something very, very important, lad... What happened to her was something fearful for us all. She couldn't swim, and the man she loved once died... He left her to die, and then the ghost that reflects her..." Giving a light sigh, he released his shoulders. "I could tell you what she died of, I could, but... Alfred, lad, she was a good woman with no friends. It's the worst way a woman could die, and they say her husband died before_ her_."

Alfred left the stand and crossed arms over his chest. " 'm goin' to go to the dock, okay? Don't follow me... I'll jus' read my book and be back when it's not quite dark." The American picked up his book and left, going through a well-known route to the unused, well-taken-care-of dock, made of strong wood in case ships used the old port someday. Once Alfred was gone, Arthur stood there, watching after his teenaged son. In no time passing, Francis leaned on the counter, a smirk.

"Pretty Arzur iz alone, 'mm? 'ow cute," the Frenchman mumbled, a smirk as Arthur frowned at the Frenchman. " 'ow cute of you to make 'im run off like zat." Humming softly, he ruffled Arthur's hair. "Arzur, my dear friend, you need to be more... Conziderate in raizing ze boy. Let 'im learn what 'e will of 'er, yes? Let 'im know what he wants to know, see it for 'imself. If 'e zeez the lighzouze az it iz, 'e will stop asking you and me, zough she was a beloved cousin, zough you alwayz liked 'er."

"She was beautiful, never left the damn tower, and lost a child... She would never have loved me like I loved her, you dimwhit. You stuipid Frog, we're both widowers, and your child, if you can call her that, is seven years younger than my boy. Butt out of my child's life, and don't you _dare_ explain Jeanne's life to him. She was an honorable woman who only went out to get food or books. God knows why she wanted them, they were useless to her." Arthur sighed again, running a hand shakily though his hair.

"Pleaze, Arzur, let ze boy know 'ow you felt about Jeanne, zat we were potential relatives. Zough... It may be a good zing zat you did not. You would never 'ave your child." Francis hummed before walking away, taking his child by the hand and going to go after Alfred. Once he went ot find Alfred, however, Michelle stopped him at the sight by the pier. For once, it was good Arthur didn't follow. Alfred was sitting with the book in Matthew's lap, and the older of the two was _smiling_, even after a fight with Arthur. Putting a finger to his lips, Michelle and Francis went to go home.

If they had stayed, they would have heard Matthew reading from the book at the parts he loved, from when Francis got him the book. Once Matthew set it in the grass by the lighthouse gently, soon enough kissing the American softly to console him. After that, Alfred returned the kiss and Matthew laughed sweetly. Once Alfred picked up the book, holding Matthew's hand tightly, and smiling lightly, the lighthouse door locked and the boys ended up in Matthew's bed. It would probably be the first time either boy had slept with anyone, but that was okay. There was a first time for everything.

_**- [To be continued…] -**_


	4. Ch 4: Arthur and Jeanne

**Author's Note**: Hello again, everyone... Yes, it's Thursday and I have failed myself from yesterday; but you know what? I took a long nap, got to bed too late, and was generally a lazy Illead. So, sorry about that and now we're back in track. Happy post-Wednesday and definite Thursday, then! It is beautiful outside, and next week will be updated on a Wednesday. Without further ado, yes, they did sleep together, because this is an AmeCan with no other pairs, to clear that all up; today, we meet Arthur's backstory with Jeanne. It's not a happy flashback, spoilers. Today, I'm listening to "The Distance," by Cake, if you want to know why this sounds a bit off from usual with the poetic aesthetics within… It all depends on the song I listen to how fast it gets written. Today is a record of two hours. I'm pleased. It's going to be exciting, because I actually ate something and feel less sick than yesterday. As usual, enjoy, enjoy, friends; and, while you're at it, have a fantastic day!

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of note._

**_- [Previous Chapter] –_**

_"If they had stayed, they would have heard Matthew reading from the book at the parts he loved, from when Francis got him the book. Once Matthew set it in the grass by the lighthouse gently, soon enough kissing the American softly to console him. After that, Alfred returned the kiss and Matthew laughed sweetly. Once Alfred picked up the book, holding Matthew's hand tightly, and smiling lightly, the lighthouse door locked and the boys ended up in Matthew's bed. It would probably be the first time either boy had slept with anyone, but that was okay. There was a first time for everything."_

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 4: Arthur and Jeanne_

**_- [Cue Story Flashback] –_**

_The year of Alfred's life was three years of age; Arthur lost the boy's mother died giving birth to Alfred, an American woman named Amelia. Amelia Jones had been his wife, and now he was a widow. A widow was a lonely life, and without Alfred, he would never have returned to this town everyone called home. Jeanne, the blonde from France, and then a cold land she called Canada, ran the lighthouse, and she was his other reason. Arthur Kirkland, the fur seller and trader, wanted to marry her. Jeanne was his everything. She was his morning, his evening, and his laughter._

_Sighing softly, he lay Alfred to bed and tucked the boy in, kissing his forehead. Alfred was also his everything, his smiles and his amusement, his love and his happiness. Sitting on the edge of his toddler's bed and smoothed the sleeping child's hair down. He loved his son, he loved Jeanne, but Jeanne lost a husband, and supposedly a son. What a poor woman, really, to lose her son and her husband in rapid time. It made Arthur want to hug her, marry her, and give her what she lost. But that was selfish of him, wasn't it? It was stupid to ask her that._

_With a sigh softly, the British man went to see her, if Francis, her cousin, didn't get in his way. Francis was the local blacksmith, all the way from France, to take care of his cousin, Jeanne, for whom he bought books and food and some other nondescript things for. She lent him the money, and he got it for her. It was sweet that he looked out for her, but Arthur always felt that was up to him. She should have said she would marry him before he spent nine months in America, making sure Amelia was looked after. But Jeanne was also form France, and independent as a woman._

_Not that that was a bad thing, but he worried she was too independent someone would drown her, and blame her clumsy falling. Of course, someone was bound to eventually, but he hoped he could protect her by then and get her out of the lighthouse. The lighthouse was old, but he loved seeing her say in signals of light that things were safe to dock. In retrospect, the dock was newly retouched last week, on her request for if children went to take a swim in the summertime. Arthur hoped Alfred liked swimming if he was going to keep traveling for furs every time they went._

_But right now, he wanted to see her in the lighthouse, if she let him into her domain. Her life was that lighthouse, and she never really went outside. Sighing again, he stood at the dock, looking up to where she sat at the desk upstairs. What did Jeanne need with so many books, so many things that women didn't need to know? Arthur may have been an ignorant man, but he would never admit he cared for her. She always looked so sad, but right now, she was joyous. Her blue eyes and short hair seemed to shine… Jeanne looked happy. He was glad._

_Smiling softly, the British fur seller went through the dark to knock on the locked door to the lighthouse. Why was it always locked and what did she lock it for? To keep people out, or let people not enter? It had to be dangerous, risky to be there on her own, to some degree. Only Francis knew the truth, and he had a key no one could touch. One of these days, Francis would have his own son or daughter and give up what really happened in there, with her. He'd have to give it up, wouldn't he? Jeanne was a beauty, a wonderment he wanted to marry because it was Jeanne, or France, who had no last name. If only he could._

_As he knocked on the door softly, and heard a fumble of bare feet, before she unlocked the door, blinking in surprise to see Arthur. "Ah, Miss Jeanne… Hello there, lass." Though they were close in age, she being two years younger, he liked to think she was a lass, a maiden. It was a habit he had from two of his brothers, Allistor and Riley, first and third born. He missed Peter, the youngest boy, and deeply missed Owen, his second oldest brother, but thus was life, he figured. They died in a fire, and his mother, the last member of his family save himself, was the only person to raise him on her own. It was touching she cared and loved him enough to save him from the perishable fire._

_Shaking the memories from his mind, he saw Jeanne bite her lower lip nervously and go to shut the door, then kept it ajar, blue eyes looking back at Arthur. "Mr. Kirkland, I know that you want me to marry you, but, sir, I can assure I will not do so. I'm terribly sorry to say I have pressing matters to attend to, and I would ask a man, such as yourself, to please don't misread things in the future. You need to get to know me before you claim to my eldest cousin that you want to marry me." Laughing nervously, she closed the door, locking it back and leaning against it. Arthur Kirkland was a nice man with a son of three, just a year older by three days from her Matthew. Her secret Matthew._

_Sighing softly, the woman went to the toddler's bedroom and lay beside him, holding the sleeping child close. He couldn't get it; he was safe from the people, who would never like a single woman raising a child all alone. Yes, Arthur had influence in the town, but he would feel betrayed by her son, the one she had after her husband died in a tragic accident. In all irony, it involved water. She loved swimming, and was currently teaching Matthew to swim. It was an important skill he would need, she though, and if Matthew could be friends with Alfred Kirkland, she would, but… There was his pining father._

_Arthur, she knew, would leave soon enough, and she let him see her in her nightgown. Gulping, she smoothed over Matthew's nightshirt and kissed his forehead, moving the curl from his sleeping face. He was her adorable Matthew, who looked so much like her husband, technically Canadian by original birth and now in America. America, the melting pot for immigration, though she never liked it. Francis got her books for Matthew to read, and she was incredibly glad. Hopefully, he would always protect her little boy. By a miracle alone, her baby boy would meet Alfred, without Arthur around._

_Arthur believed women would be better off taken care of by men, but her husband knew she would be safe. In Matthew's bedroom, the portrait her husband made of her hung for him to see if a storm or a branch beside his window scared him. He knew it was there, and she was incredibly thankful her late husband made it to the lighthouse to help her set up the room for Matthew, their room, a study room overlooking the water. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Matthew was beautiful. And everything would be fine. She would never be forgotten by her precious son, and Matthew would always have Francis and his potential children. Jeanne fell asleep content after Arthur's startling visit, holding her precious boy close to her. _

_Life was fine. Life was great. Life moved on._

**_- [To be continued…] -_**


	5. Ch 5: Our Secret, Twilight Promise

**Author's Note**: Hello again, everyone... Sorry it's Thursday again. I'll have this up today because I lost track of the days. I really should have a calendar or something… I keep track of weekdays by the count of yogurts in the fridge. Without further ado, have some AMeCan inspired, today, by Blackmore's Night's "Ghost of a Rose" and "Fires at Midnight." As well, it's inspired by "Winnie the Pooh," in all theme variations. Now that we know Arthur's backstory with Jeanne and how Jeanne loved her son, enough to protect him from everyone that would hurt him, it will come in handy later. Once again, I used "Will the Circle be Unbroken," by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, and the line "_The stars are out and magic is here"_ is from "Fires at Midnight." Here's a lot of love, it could use love from just AmeCan again. Sorry for the super long paragraphs; but, as usual, enjoy, enjoy, friends; and have a wonderful day.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

**Translations/ Referneces**:

_* Quoi _= What? (French)

** _The stars are out and magic is here_ = Line in "Fires at Midnight," by Blackmore's Night

_*** Will the circle be unbroken _= Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's "Will the Circle be Unbroken"

_End of note._

_**- [Previous Chapter] –**_

_"Life was fine. Life was great. Life moved on."_

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 5: Our Secret, Twilight Promise_

_**- [Cue Story Flashback] –**_

_A lot of time had passed since they first met and summer came back, leaving Alfred and Matthew more time to see each other. Matthew watched bemusedly at Alfred's picking at a daisy, muttering 'he loves me' every single time; it wasn't efficient, and his father didn't ask where Alfred went. According to Francis, he had always been a water baby, and swam a lot of the time in his childhood. After the last petal was plucked, Matthew ran a hand over Alfred's currently-sun kissed cheek, a hum softly. "Alfie, it's 'he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not,' not 'he loves me, he loves me, he loves me, he loves me.' You're stilly sometimes." The sun was setting, and lifting his head from Alfred's extremely comfortable lap, the Canadian yawned softly._ "Do you want to spend the night with me again? I can make us dinner, or you can, and I can make sure you get home before midnight." Pushing blond hair behind his ears, he leaned into his side. "Besides, it's my birthday… I know yours is in three days, but I'd like to celebrate with you, Michi, and Francis. You're all my very best friends in this world."

The fireflies were out tonight, and they were beautiful. Alfred softly kissed Matthew's forehead and nodded, a light grin in response. "Yeah, I think I'd like to do that, Mattie… You know, it was really, really nice of you to let me stay that one night, when Dad made me upset like that. I mean, the rest of the night was nice, too, and I felt super hungry by the time I left, but you were awesome enough to let me use your bed, after… Well, you know." Blushing to his ears brightly, he laughed softly at Matthew's blushing even darker. Slightly more so, at any rate, and it made things good again. Matthew didn't regret it, he didn't did regret it, and Francis was thrilled when he made Matthew tell him. Michelle had been with Arthur, of course, but the sentiment was nice Francis cared about Matthew in the way he knew, by now, Alfred wouldn't leave him in a one-night stand. "Do'ya have any cake? I heard Francis might be making one… He likes spoiling you on things that matter to you, books, food, flowers…" Grinning, he ruffled Matthew's hair, wavy and beautiful and long. "Hey, Mattie, do you mind doing something for me?"

"Eh? _Quoi_*? I would do anything for you, you know that after all this time, Alfie… Just say what you want me to do." Matthew absently played with Alfred's hair, a shy smile as he lay his head back on the American's lap, a hum contently. "You managed to make me think about you all the time as it is, there's nothing I won't do for you… If it means I have to jump into the water from when my mother jumped to save someone, then I will. I think she was trying to save some guy that loved her, but it couldn't have been your dad. I know he used to really, really want her, but she said no so many times… Because of me, to keep me from the pain of your father's selfish love. No offense, Alfie, really, it's just… She told me that when I was around six-years-old, crying into my pillow after he slandered my father. Again, no offense meant, because I couldn't wish to offend you." Plucking grass and watching the fireflies absentmindedly, he hummed softly, voice soft as Alfred's. It was incredibly romantic, and cheesy, but it was Alfred, and he was happy when he was with Alfred. Or Francis and Michelle, but for different types of love; family always had been a different thing.

Drumming his fingers on Matthew's outer thigh, Alfred got a daisy and held it out to Matthew like it was a rose. "My pretty, beautiful ghost… Would you take this thorn-less red rose from my hands and pluck the petals, one by one, to do what I was doing? You can make it 'he loves me, he loves me not,' or 'he loves me, he loves me.' Either way, I love you and you love me, and that's all we need to know, but it's cuter when you do it… I'm just a hopeless romantic for you. For you alone, because one day, I want to secretly marry you in a flower garden, with Francis, Michelle, and my father around us. I want to spend my whole life with you, to be happy with you and adopt little babies to raise. We could have the best family and no one could judge us, with Francis, Michelle, and my father… Once Dad gets over his thing with loving your late mom, no offense meant, of course." Ear-to-ear grin later, the American leaned his back into the tree, starting to make a flower chain for Matthew while the Canadian sacredly held the daisy and began to pluck the petals gently and carefully.

"I would marry you in an instant, Alfred Franklin Kirkland… I'd be Matthew Kirkland in a heartbeat, if only I could get everyone to agree with me. Okay, here it goes, Alfie," Matthew muttered, sheepish and blushing as he plucked one petal; "He loves me," he quietly said, as Alfred connected one flower to another, two in a small flower chain, kissing his right cheek as he got a third flower. "He loves me not," he continued, as Alfred kissed his ear, connecting the third and got a fourth. "He loves me," he said again, counting where he would end up with, eight or ten petals on the white and yellow daisy, Alfred kissing his nose. "He loves me not…" he smiled now, a kiss to his forehead, "He loves me," he mumbled sheepishly now as Alfred kissed his shoulder, each time he plucked a petal Alfred adding another small flower. Curious, Matthew counted four petals left, noticing 'he loves me' were white petals, and yellow petals were 'he loves me not.' Taking another breath, he plucked the next one, catching on to what Alfred was doing. It was a ring. "He loves me not," he repeated, a kiss to his temple, "He loves me." A kiss to his neck lightly, making Matthew giggle. "He loves me not," he said again, a kiss to his other cheek, "He loves me." A kiss to the corner of his lips, a not-quite-a-kiss.

"He loves me not," Matthew continued, a light smile and a bright blush as Alfred nearly finished the small flower chained ring, the flowers pastels of sorts and perhaps the prettiest ring he had ever seen. Down to the last petal, he plucked it, letting the stem and head of the flower fall to his left, within the secret grass, petals laying in a neat, unintended circle around it. Looking up to meet Alfred's eyes, he giggled, reaching up to place a pale hand on his cheek. "He loves me. He will always love me," he said, as if the whole world depended on those eight words, Alfred kissing his lips and placing the flower ring on his finger delicately. "And I will always love him," he softly said as a conclusion to their cheesy ritual, a soft, shy giggle as he kissed the American back. "Is this like a wedding, Alfred? We have no witnesses, and no one to give _you_ a ring as my husband, though I could make you a flower ring, too." His eyes shut as he was brought up to sit in Alfred's lap, a sigh contently, eyes opening to look at the ring. "It's really, really beautiful… Like anything Francis can make as a blacksmith. Thank you, Alfred, thank you so much, for everything… For staying with me."

Alfred kissed his Canadian again, a happy sigh. "Is there really no witness, Mattie? _The stars are out and magic is here_**… I have you, you have me, we have each other. Look around you, the fireflies are everywhere, they witnessed our promise to always be together, no matter what happens, no matter what life has in store for us. It's so easy to fall in love with you, so hard to fall out of love, so difficult to leave you even for twelve hours in a day… I want to make you promise me, with God and the fireflies, the lighthouse, your mother's spirit, as our witness, that you will marry me one day with real rings, and we will never be unhappy together. It's so special… You're so special to me, that I want to be with you always. One day soon, I want to make love to you under these stars, just you, me, the stars, the fireflies… Just those things, and when we do, we'll never be happier. It's so hard to not worry someone will hurt you, you'll be seen, killed, the lighthouse will be burned, or something… Promise me nothing will deter you from me. That we'll always have each other. I love you with all my heart, Matthew Williams-soon-to-be-Kirkland. I will always love you, no matter what a flower says."

Matthew gave a charming smile, and, instead of speaking, which would really damage the moment, he kissed his lips and lay Alfred back in the grass. Rolling so Alfred lay above him, both boys out of breath and happy, the Canadian didn't let the flower ring crumble. It was their promise, and he couldn't break that. That was a circle he could not break, couldn't hurt, and couldn't damage. Instead of saying he promised, like Alfred asked, he began to sing softly in perfect pitch, a whisper of sacred sound, violet eyes bright with happiness. Everything mattered on this moment, it hung in the balance and they both knew it. This was their future before it happened, and nothing could stop it. After another passionate kiss, he let Alfred know he wanted to make Alfred's dream come true. They had time until Francis and Michelle got there to clean up inside the lighthouse and set the table, and right now, it was just _them_, everything was about them and their future. It was so beautiful, so much Matthew felt he could die happy if something did happen. So beautiful, and all because of a pair of blue eyes met his when he bought the coat. It was not snowy; it was July 1, and something was wrong with the weather that it was so nice out. But none of that mattered right now. They had each other, it was all that mattered in that moment, with two beautiful boys. "_Will the circle be unbroken…*** _"

_**- [To be continued…] -**_


	6. Ch 6: Arthur's Final Resolve Reupload

**Author's Note**: Well, heyo again, everyone... It's Wednesday right now, and I have an hour to write this. College is creeping up on me as a thought, driver's permit I'm not ready for is popping into place, and my goal is to take photographs as of late. So, without further ado, I will procrastinate my driver's permit and write this. This is inspired by nothing but my will to write, so it should be an interesting chapter, or any Imogen Heap song (Specifically "Hide and Seek," which I'm listening to now) as the other inspiration. Take what you will from that. I think there's four left, three to the fire, and four the epilogue. Here's some angry Arthur and slight harm to Alfred out of drunken stupor, as well as swearing. Just a warning, but it ends in a cliff-hanger… I owe you that somehow with some dramatic angst. I now present family drama based on Alfred and Matthew. As usual, enjoy, enjoy, friends; and good early morning (it's 15 minutes to midnight, but still Wednesday, thank goodness). This is bumped up to M because of swearing.

Due to technical issues, this is up on a Thursday, sorry.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of Note._

**_- [Previous Chapter] –_**

"_Matthew gave a charming smile, and, instead of speaking, which would really damage the moment, he kissed his lips and lay Alfred back in the grass. Rolling so Alfred lay above him, both boys out of breath and happy, the Canadian didn't let the flower ring crumble. It was their promise, and he couldn't break that. That was a circle he could not break, couldn't hurt, and couldn't damage. Instead of saying he promised, like Alfred asked, he began to sing softly in perfect pitch, a whisper of sacred sound, violet eyes bright with happiness. Everything mattered on this moment, it hung in the balance and they both knew it. This was their future before it happened, and nothing could stop it. After another passionate kiss, he let Alfred know he wanted to make Alfred's dream come true. They had time until Francis and Michelle got there to clean up inside the lighthouse and set the table, and right now, it was just them, everything was about them and their future. It was so beautiful, so much Matthew felt he could die happy if something did happen. So beautiful, and all because of a pair of blue eyes met his when he bought the coat. It was not snowy; it was July 1, and something was wrong with the weather that it was so nice out. But none of that mattered right now. They had each other, it was all that mattered in that moment, with two beautiful boys._ '_Will the circle be unbroken…_' "

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 6: Arthur's Final Resolve_

**_- [Cue Story Flashback] –_**

Arthur noticed with a flurry that his son was in love with someone, the lighthouse boy specifically, whom he caught kissing back to his Alfred's initiation. While he was glad that Alfred was happy, there was no way that _boy of Jeanne's _was going to be with his Alfred. His son was better than falling for that scum, wasn't he? Sighing, the Brig drank more rum, trying to not hit Alfred like he so wanted to. The blond boy was unknown to anyone, but he knew Francis, Michelle, and, most importantly, his _son_! Groaning, he emptied the second rum bottle as Alfred entered just in time for supper. Excellent, he wasn't staying the night with the blond. Was there ways to get him to not love the child, who looked so much like Jeanne and Francis, and hate the boy instead? He smirked for a fraction of a second before dropping it and getting _more_ rum. He'd have a terrible hangover tomorrow because of this. "About time you got home, Alfred," he muttered in a slur. Alfred didn't look like he heard him, in his own world, before staring at Arthur and shaking his head softly. "Come, sit down, you should at least respect me as your elder and your father, yes? It's what I request of you."

Alfred jumped and laughed shakily, scratching his neck nervously. His hair was tousled from Matthew messing it up when he and Matthew ended up chasing each other around the grass, laughing happily, and ending up kissing fervently and passionately, just not enough to go further. Not tonight, anyway, with his father getting more and more suspicious. Arthur Kirkland was many things, but a fool he was not. Alfred, his own son of 17 years, knew this, so keeping Matthew safe was all that mattered; Matthew was his everything, and he couldn't go a day without wanting to be with him, make him laugh, and make him happy. Matthew was also many things, quite like his father, but he wasn't going to lose Matthew to his father's rage. And, right now, Alfred noticed his father, the British fur merchant, was drunk and in a rage. Not good, really, because he already ate with Matthew, who he said he owed Alfred a romantic dinner. It had been _very _romantic dinner that was full of passion. And there were two things Alfred loved the most: passion and Matthew, aside from food and sex. Francis said that was what it was. It was incredible. Amazing. And it was something that meant _Matthew_. Matthew was beautiful, masculine, strong, and incredibly sweet.

Arthur frowned and watched the boy he raised, who he hardly knew the double life of, try to skip a set dinner of chicken, rice, and water. Arthur had his rum, and it was only making him angrier. "Sit down, boy! I won't have you starving, you hear me? Sit your arse down and stay here. Talk to me, Alfred, I don't know where you go, or _why _that boy is where you spend your nights, most of a week, but you _will _sit down and enjoy a meal with me. I am your _father_, Alfred Kirkland, and I will _always be_ your father, so sit down and enjoy a meal with me, okay?" Glaring at Arthur to talk back, who gulped and sat down across from his father at a table holding three chairs, the Brit kept glaring. "Now, start from the beginning what this boy means to you, or you can never see him again. Am I clear?" After a silence, he reached out and lifted Alfred's chin. "I'm highly disappointed in you… I _told_ you specifically _not to _go near that lighthouse and stay near the pier since you were three-years-old. Why do you disobey your authority? Hm? What makes you disobey me like this? You're always so obedient, so honest, with me, and now… God, Alfred, who are you? You're not my son, that's for damn sure. I want to know why, why you defy me so."

"Dad, you just don't get it, do you? I'm _happy _with him, and so what if he looks like Jeanne, the woman you loved after Mom died? I have needs and wants, too, and I want to love him with every fiber of my being, even if it kills me, I want to be with him. It's so different and so much better than being stuck here under your glare and your bitterness, anyway, and I feel like I can be myself since you banished me from being curious. I'm going to keep seeing him whether you want me to or not, okay? I love being around people like Francis, Michelle, that _boy_ you so dislike. So what if she disliked you, when you bothered her out? She was scared of you and didn't want him, the one I keep spending my nights next to, to have the town judge him! It made him better, so much better than you, or this whole _damn _town, full of gossip and lies! Besides, I already ate, and it's nicer not to eat with you. You want to keep me happy? You'll need to not get the town to want to burn the lighthouse down, to kill the boy I came to love, and the only place I can be happy. I've never been happier… I may never have known Mom, but I have _him_ and it's all I really need to be happy. Do you know what it's like to be that happy, to have someone forever and ever, and to never have to be alone? I do… It's so much better than _becoming you_! So back off, Dad, and let me live my life. Okay!?"

Arthur watched Alfred stand, watched him push his chair in loudly, put his food back near Arthur's, right before his father brought his face close to his, slapping him open-palmed and leaving a mark. He was unaware what he did, for a moment, before Alfred jerked away wide-eyes, blue eyes so much like his mother's, like Jeanne's, like the two women he loved in his life. And, oh God, he _hit _his own son… His boy, who was right, yet Arthur was too stubborn to say he was. In the uncomfortably pregnant silence, the British fur merchant watched the door open, before Alfred stopped, a look of great fear. Then it dawned on him his son was just as stubborn, as he had always been, but this was _worse_ in _so many ways_ he could not fix. And if he had to let Alfred go, he simply didn't think of it. But trying to think of what to say, the Brit got to his feet to hug his boy close to him, to wordlessly apologize. Words were so grotesque here, so gross and overexerted like a terribly place metaphor. But Alfred backed away to the wall of the living room, shaking his head and holding onto his cheek. "Alfred, listen to me… I… Oh, God, what I have I done to you? What have I done to us? We're a family, we shouldn't… I didn't… Bloody Hell, Alfred, please forgive me…" He slumped to the wall, shrinking into it much as possible. "Why can't you just _damn well_… Oh, shit… Just tell me why, Alfred, please, just tell me what it is I did…" He was in deep trouble, so much he could drown in it before the young, sun-setting night could end. And he deserved every bit of it, really, he did.

Alfred glared, not saying anything for a while, before clearing his throat quietly and going to the now-closed door, and, before opening it, glared with blue eyes full of ice at Arthur. "Dad, I really, really hate you right now… I'm leaving before you can hit me again. I hate you, Dad, I hate you so much." The words were soft, full of malice and hate, a bloody sound Arthur absolutely cringed at. They were quiet, meaningful, and whoever said that words couldn't _hurt_ was a brown stain in the mattress. The floor could have fallen and the worst thing was Alfred leaving in utterly silence. Arthur was alone now, for the night, maybe two if he was unlucky. And he deserved it. Sobbing on the corridor floor, the merchant looked over at the shut door, finding new strength. He'd burn that lighthouse down if it was the last thing he did, as soon as Alfred came home. No one got in the way of his son not loving him as a father and son should. The boy would pay for his long-harbored pain of Jeanne's rejection, her death he probably could have stopped from within, and now for his son's disobedience and resistance. The lighthouse wouldn't just be destroyed… The boy his son loved would, too. Arthur would see to that, even if it broke Alfred's heart. It was high time his son knew heartbreak like he did.

**_ - [To be continued…] - _**


	7. Ch 7: Francis' Elopement Idea

**Author's Note**: Hey there, everyone... It's Thursday, sorry… I forgot the date and the weekday. College is springing up, and this story is almost at wraps. Don't worry, there won't be any fire yet… We need sweet after that angst. Today, Santana feat Rob Thomas' "Smooth" is the inspiration. It's super cheerful. Specifically, it's the line "Give me your heart, make it real, or just forget about it." The mood of this chapter is set in The Summer Set's song, called "Boomerang." There's a line about coming back to someone like a boomerang, so it really fits. The last song to give me inspiration for the mood, as romantic, it turned out to be AJ Rafael's "Red Roses." As usual, enjoy, enjoy, friends, and have a great day.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

**Translations**:

_Oui, ma petite lapin. _(French) = Yes, my little rabbit.

_Vene, mon cousin… _(French) = Come, my cousin…

_End of Note._

_**- [Previous Chapter] –**_

_"Alfred glared, not saying anything for a while, before clearing his throat quietly and going to the now-closed door, and, before opening it, glared with blue eyes full of ice at Arthur. 'Dad, I really, really hate you right now… I'm leaving before you can hit me again. I hate you, Dad, I hate you so much.' The words were soft, full of malice and hate, a bloody sound Arthur absolutely cringed at. They were quiet, meaningful, and whoever said that words couldn't hurt was a brown stain in the mattress. The floor could have fallen and the worst thing was Alfred leaving in utterly silence. Arthur was alone now, for the night, maybe two if he was unlucky. And he deserved it. Sobbing on the corridor floor, the merchant looked over at the shut door, finding new strength. He'd burn that lighthouse down if it was the last thing he did, as soon as Alfred came home. No one got in the way of his son not loving him as a father and son should. The boy would pay for his long-harbored pain of Jeanne's rejection, her death he probably could have stopped from within, and now for his son's disobedience and resistance. The lighthouse wouldn't just be destroyed… The boy his son loved would, too. Arthur would see to that, even if it broke Alfred's heart. It was high time his son knew heartbreak like he did."_

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 7: Francis's Elopement Idea_

_**- [Cue Story Flashback] –**_

The morning came and went, and by noon the next day, Matthew was comforting a crying Alfred and giving him mushy pancakes. The pancakes were only mushy because Alfred refused to eat until noon, but that was okay, because the Canadian was going to support him. At least, with Arthur saying he couldn't see him, which was bound to make a fight. Alfred, meanwhile, found it nicer in the lighthouse, and wanted to live there forever with Mattie. After a very stressful evening and morning with Alfred sobbing into Matthew's shoulder, the American ate his lunch of mushy pancakes and Matthew sat beside him. By one in the afternoon, Francis and Michelle came to visit after hearing Arthur and Alfred had a fight. It was comforting they locked the door, and apparently, there was a town meeting about burning the lighthouse down, which Francis was unable to attend. Instead, the Frenchman and his dark-skinned daughter went to see Matthew and Alfred. However, the person to say this, was Michelle, unexpectedly so.

The girl looked from Alfred to Matthew seriously before gulping, going up to Matthew and whispering into his ear. After a few moments, she told Alfred, who paled more than Matthew. After a few minutes, there was complete silence, uncomfortable and not very welcome. Sighing, Michelle, sat on her father's lap and watched the teenagers sadly. "… An' when zat 'appens," she mumbled, having a heavy accent from Francis' teaching her to speak, with a hint of the Seychelles culture from her year and a half there, "Zen, your fazer will try to burn Mathieu." She watched Matthew hide behind Alfred, who instantly brought the Canadian close in a hug to comfort him. "I am zorry, Mathieu, Alfred." A sigh softly, she looked up to her father and leaned against the Frenchman, a smile sadly. "Right, Papa? Iz zat right?" Leaning against him, her eyes shut to hear his heartbeat moe clearly.

"_Oui, ma petite lapin_," Francis mumbled, smoothing her hair out and fixing her ponytails out of nerves and habit. "It iz correct, my little Michelle. Zey will burn zis lighthouse down if Arthur gets 'is way. 'e is trying to rid zis town of Jeanne and Mattheiu. If Arthur succeeds, 'e will marry Alfred to a girl in zis town wizout telling anyone Alfred 'ad been wiz my little cousin… At ze zame time, we can protect what you value most, Mattie." There was a pause before he took a deep breath, and looked from one boy to the other, a smile sadly. "It iz ze least I can do, my friends. Zen, while zey 'old zis town meeting, Michelle and I can take your valuables to an unknown location only I know, and you two can… Well, you can elope, to prove zat it iz ztronger zan what zey zink." After a pause, he watched the room and every occupant in the kitchen. "Well?"

Matthew took a deep breath and washed the dishes, drying and putting them away before he spoke, leaning on the sink and sitting on the sturdy counter, closest to Alfred. "Well… Yes and no, I mean, I do want to marry Alfred, but no one I know ever married another man before. A-and, well, Francis, I… Um… I can't say when they would try to burn me and this lighthouse down. I'd like it in one piece, even if everything I value is safe, I couldn't let myself be homeless. We'd have to go in the back with the belongings in the carriage if we were going to elope, and that's half a day's work away. Now that the town knows about me, they might not want to kill me… Or whatever they want to. B-besides, I can't risk anyone's life, especially not yours, Michelle's, or Alfie's, in eloping. There's no man in this world that would marry us, because I'm not a woma-" Blushing suddenly, he looked to each person, seeing their faces on his figure. "Oh. I see."

"You would make a perfect woman, Mattie, and just for an elopement! I mean, you look nearly like your mama. We can tie your hair back, well, Francis can, and he can make you look just like a woman. No one would know you were a woman, because you're curvy, slightly, and we can make you look like you got a… Uh, you know, a chest, without much effort on our part. Essentially, we'll make ya look your mother! It's genius, and you'll pull off a simple wedding dress. Only, we got two hours to make this work, so Francis will have to protect the lighthouse, give me directions to where to take your most valued belongings, and we'll just elope. No one will tell you're a man if Francis can make It work." Alfred grinned, kissing Matthew's forehead and bringing the Canadian closer by his waist, not really minding he hugged his waist and almost touched his bottom. Almost, and certainly not intentionally, though it was really nice all the same. Looking to Francis, he tilted his head curiously. "Can ya do that, maybe? It would mean a lot to me, Francis."

Francis grinned at a blushing Canadian, a nod fiercely. "I can, I can… I can make 'im look like a woman and get away wiz it all ze zame. If you ztart getting the zings we all know Mathieu loves mozt, zen we can begin to do zo." Carefully moving Michelle, he kissed her forehead and told her to help Alfred, more happy that Alfred and Matthew had a chance together, even if Matthew had to look like Jeanne on her wedding day. Once he knew Matthew was the last one without an order, he stood and hoisted his cousin over his shoulder. "_Vene, mon cousin_… Let uz go and get you ready for a wedding drezz and look pretty. Zis way, you can marry and ztill prove to ze town you are not evil, eh?" Grinning still, he set him on a bed in Jeanne's dusty, untouched bedroom. "Now, where did zhe keep her make-up and her wedding drezz?" Not expecting Matthew, who was more stunned than anything else, to answer, the Frenchman found it without a hitch. Laying the dress neatly on the bed, he hummed under his breath happily.

Matthew made a face, seeing the dress in remarkable shape and without ruin, a blush more as he found Francis applying things to his face mostly women wore. "Come on, Francis, this isn't fair! I can't impersonate my mother and get married. Yes, I speak softer than most people, but it's asking a bit too much when- wait, what are your doing, Francis? That's a little too far-" The Canadian blinked as he removed his glasses and set them in his shirtwaist pocket, a frown softly. "I'm not sure this will work, really, because I'm still a man, though not the most obvious one. A-and how am I supposed to… Oh, I see." Mattie blushed more, his face beet red, before it died down and he found Francis telling him to remove all by his undergarments. Obeying, he also found the dress fit more snugly than he would have imagined, as Francis improvised a chest for the dress. He didn't know if his mother would be happy about him doing this, but he guessed she would have liked Alfred. Alfred was her kind of happy and the sort of person who liked happiness, just like she had.

Francis, meanwhile, ignored and tutt'ed Matthew when he tried to stop him, getting the finishing touches to the dress set, a hum in content after putting Matthew's hair in a bun. Ironically, Matthew looked like his mother in every way in that dress. "Ah, zere we are… A perfect copy of Jeanne, yes. Now, are you ready to zhow Alfred what you look like? 'e 'as finizhed 'is work by now, and I 'ave packed a bag of five drezzez for you. It iz not acceptable if you did not 'ave zis… And I expect you to take a week for your honeymoon."

Nodding determinedly, Francis smiled lightly and helped Matthew up, finding it humorous he could go barefoot in the dresses Jeanne used to wear. "You will not need zhoez, Mathieu… Now go, go to your husband-to-be. I 'ave put two ringz in ze pocket of ze drezz for you." Kissing his forehead, like a father giving away his daughter, he opened the door, helping Matthew down the steps and outside, where Alfred waited by the front of the carriage. "You 'ave all ze zings you will need to look like a woman for your time away, Mattie… Be zafe, ze two of you. And have fun, while you are at it."

Alfred, blinking, stepped down from the carriage and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck while taking the bag for Matthew's clothing that week, blushing brightly. Once Francis went inside with Michelle, the lighthouse locked and he helped Matthew up to where he could sit, a blush still, matching Matthew's own. "Damn, Matt… You look beautiful, really… More than usual. U-um, think I can call you Madeline until I can stop worrying someone will call ya a lady? I mean, ya pull it off, and Francis prolly showed ya how ta apply that stuff, so we're all good, right?" After Matthew nodded, Alfred left with Matthew's prized belongings for the storage unit, keeping away from prying eyes. They had their future, and here it was, looking brighter than usual.

_**- [To be continued…] - **_


	8. Ch 8: Arthur's Revenge

**Author's Note**: Hello there, everyone… I started some college classes, and I still don't sleep well, so sorry this is on a Thursday. Just a precaution, but I don't own the characters and only follow on how the characters would react. There's one more story after this, and two to the finality of the whole story, as an epilogue. Enjoy, enjoy, friends… I have said all I need to say this time around… No songs that inspire me this time.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of Note._

**_- [Previous Chapter] –_**

_"Alfred, blinking, stepped down from the carriage and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck while taking the bag for Matthew's clothing that week, blushing brightly. Once Francis went inside with Michelle, the lighthouse locked and he helped Matthew up to where he could sit, a blush still, matching Matthew's own. 'Damn, Matt… You look beautiful, really… More than usual. U-um, think I can call you Madeline until I can stop worrying someone will call ya a lady? I mean, ya pull it off, and Francis prolly showed ya how ta apply that stuff, so we're all good, right?' After Matthew nodded, Alfred left with Matthew's prized belongings for the storage unit, keeping away from prying eyes. They had their future, and here it was, looking brighter than usual."_

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 8: Arthur's Revenge_

**_- [Cue Story Flashback] –_**

Arthur was more than ready to show his son what he meant by his forbidding, but when they went into the lighthouse together, he watched them share a kiss and a laugh, going into what would seem to be a kitchen. This, of course, was all seen from the stairwell window. They both wore rings, and Matthew had worn a dress. Francis said they were making beautiful memories, and, well… Here they were, married. In truth, Matthew made a wonderful woman, but he was, still, a man, and a man of 16 at that. Damn. They'd gotten past the loopholes and did what they wanted to. This was a shame, really… He didn't want his son to take it as hard as he would now.

But that happened, and now it would be harder to rekindle his love for his son, when the game he played upon was anger. Yes, it was wrong when he did that, but… Alfred needed to learn he couldn't be with a man, and that was final; and now, as he watched them go up the steps, he knew it was time to go. To put his plan into action, because his son could jumped down… Could Matthew? He didn't want to _kill _the lad, of course, but he would definitely hurt him. So much he could die, and that was his revenge, but for now, he would give them time to say goodbyes without knowing it was goodbye. But, in retrospect, he would never have his son love him as his father again. More like a stranger… A bad man, and he had to live with that. However… He'd do this, just for his son to know how much heartbreak hurt.

As he looked up, he noticed nothing valuable was in the lighthouse, and he knew what was in there by studying for days before Alfred and Matthew left. The British fur trader sighed, annoyed that Francis saved everything the boy loved. So Francis knew, and he told them, and they got married. Maybe, though, it was to prove that things weren't too nice, even after telling Francis and Michelle not to go to the meeting. The pair of them overheard, told his son, and his son agreed to go with Francis' elopement plan. That certainly gave Alfred something he didn't have with Jeanne. Jeanne… Shaking his head at the thought, the Brit got to his feet, going to the window he could reach.

Once the fire started, he could easily watch it burn. Fire was infectious. Fire would burn the whole damn thing down, and he wouldn't regret it, as long as Alfred was safe and jumped. His Alfred, Alfred Frederick Kirkland, could swim well, _very well_, so Alfred would be safe. But the boy… Alfred would never forgive him, never again would he love his father. Gulping, he broke the window with a rock and threw the torch in, stepping back and hiding. He'd create a forest fire, but he would be the hero for his son and Alfred would forget Matthew. Matthew Williams, Jeanne's son who looked so much like her. He was a beautiful boy, but beautiful boys broke hearts. And now he'd prove it.

However, his unsettled thoughts were getting bigger and bigger and bigger… Guilt. Guilt. It caught up with him, and he was so going to Hell for this. Hell, if he wasn't before, he sure was now. But Matthew and Alfred couldn't see him, maybe Alfred wouldn't blame him… Even if he was the one who set the idea in everyone's mind, something Francis said the boys' knew. Great. His son would hate him forever, but he would have his son, and make her marry a village girl from this village. Alfred would have no say, because Alfred was nearly 18 Nearly, but not quite… And he had until 21 to marry a girl, yes, but if she was around his age, the marriage would go better. IT was reassuring, to be sure, but he was unhappy he had to show it this way. To kill the boy. Arthur was a murderer, but Alfred would understand it was for his own good, right?

After a moment, the British man watched his son gesture to the window, smashing it open. Matthew stumbled after Alfred, stopping as Alfred held out his arms. Matthew fell into his arms, and hugged closely, shoulders shaking like he was crying. Crying? _Crying? _For God's sake, the younger boy was _crying_! How could he ever get his son to love him? Yes, he was selfish, but he wanted Alfred to forgive him. And if this continued, Alfred, his own son, would die… Oh no. No. No, no, no… Alfred couldn't die in his selfish greed to control his son, the boy he never really could control. Why was this so hard? Why was Matthew, the devil himself, the one he loved without life to stop him? Alfred would die with this boy, he saw this… And he was _not _about to lose his son. So, he had to be the distraction.

How did he distract a boy that loved someone more than him, since Alfred's last words were more he hated him than any other person on this earth. Michelle Bonnefoy, Francis Bonnefoy… Matthew Williams, now Kirkland, that hurt. It hurt more than he ever knew hurt to be. The biggest hurt, even more than Jeanne… There was no logic here, he had to stop it. Finally, he ran to the lighthouse, beating down the door and coughing softly. Harshly coughing, he pushed his way through the flames. But when he got to the top, the boy stared at him, coldly, Matthew still sobbing uncontrollably.

"Alfred… Please, listen, I'm so sorry… You have to…" Another violent cough set him to collapse, and Alfred's expression softened. Finally, Alfred whispered something to Matthew and smiled softly, then Matthew nodded, and he let go of Alfred. After a meaningful kiss, he let Matthew jump to safety. As he lifted Arthur up, he carried his father with love for his very being, and went to jump like Matthew had, stopping to say three words, which he strained to hear. The American boy he raised was smiling, and he looked up to his son's face, which was more mature since he last saw him seven days ago.

"I forgive you," Alfred said loud enough to hear him, going closer to jump into the water, to save him, though Alfred was aware his father was burned and had taken in too much smoke. He had, Matthew had… But they would recover. These could be his last words. "Dad, I… I forgive you. I'm sorry I said I hated you, I'm so sorry… I forgive you. I love you, I really do, I was just… We were just so… God, I'm so, so sorry… I was stupid…" Alfred was crying silently, not letting Arthur use any of his last remaining strength. "I got married, Dad, to Matthew… I wanted you to know that. It's the best thing I ever did in my life. I didn't ask, I know, but…" Something stopped him from choking a sob out, but he knew his father was going to die. He wouldn't make it.

Arthur moved away as he stumbled back, the flames incredibly close. He hugged his son one last time, and smiled in that way father's did when it was time to let their son's go into the word. "Go, Alfred… Go, make that boy happy. I love you, Alfred… As your father, as your friend, and as your protector. Now, go, please… Live, for me." And when he pushed his boy into the water, he fell to his knees, sobs and coughs taking his body once the lighthouse fell. At the least, he got what he wanted, but at what cost?

**_- [To be continued…] - _**


	9. Ch 9: Silent Goodbyes

**Author's Note**: Hello there, friends, I'm going to update this on an actual Wednesday again. Isn't that nice? This is the final falling action of this story, and the next is the time jump to the new scenario, and the happy ending in conclusion. The anger is finally gone, and now we can go back to beautiful story telling. As it is, my birthday is coming up on the ninth of September, so the next time I write a chapter for this, the final chapter a few years later, it will be more-or-less with more romance behind it, as my gift to you and myself. I'm terrible at making angst that doesn't bother me, plot-needed or not. Also, the song today is by Lawson, titled "Juliet," to inspire this chapter around 11 at night. Nonetheless, enjoy, enjoy, everyone.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of Note._

**_- [Previous Chapter] –_**

___"Arthur moved away as he stumbled back, the flames incredibly close. He hugged his son one last time, and smiled in that way father's did when it was time to let their son's go into the word. 'Go, Alfred… Go, make that boy happy. I love you, Alfred… As your father, as your friend, and as your protector. Now, go, please… Live, for me.' And when he pushed his boy into the water, he fell to his knees, sobs and coughs taking his body once the lighthouse fell. At the least, he got what he wanted, but at what cost?"_

**The Boy in the Lighthouse**

_Chapter 9: Silent Goodbyes_

**_- [Cue Story] –_**

Alfred stared at the crumbling stones even when Matthew drew him away, starting to sob into his husband's shoulder as the rest of the townspeople began to see what the fuss was all about. It involved Arthur, and there wasn't a forest fire, they knew, but Alfred didn't see them like he should have seen it. Instead, he saw the last moment of his father's life, where he sacrificed himself to give him his free will, to let his son go once and for all... To be happy, and he died selflessly. Sniffling once the tears stopped, Alfred looked upon everyone in town, rubbing tears from his face. He'd never cried over anything, unless his father threatened to take something precious from him. Well, to be more precise, his beautiful, strong, graceful, and, above all else, supportive Matthew. They'd married, he couldn't be more happy about that than he felt during their honeymoon week, travel included.

But... Something was off, and he didn't have to wonder what, holding Matthew's hand without shame and smiling brokenly when Matthew held his hand back, a sniffle softly. When Matthew affectionately kissed his forehead, he stood, Alfred standing with him. His father was... God, he was dead, ashes now, and he could do nothing about it. And yet, looking out among the people gathered, the American-born Kirkland smiled bravely, meeting his eyes just so. They knew. _They knew_. And they embraced the idea, to let the two boys' be happy, to let the young men stay together without going to extremes like his father.

His father was the ringleader, and the fact he let him go be with Matthew, the so-called 'condemned son of the Devil that was Jeanne,' he had the acceptance he wanted. Matthew was alive, he had saved Matthew, and, in turn, Matthew had saved him, too. He let him reconcile with his father, whom he had been distant with as of late. And Arthur Kirkland... He left Alfred to the living, and it was nothing like when Matthew lost his mother. So, there was the lift of guilt, the release of pent-up anger, and, now, internal, hidden sadness. Looking to those in the village, he waved to each in turn, Matthew hiding behind him, afraid of the townspeople. But, that was when it happened: they each, one by one, _hugged _his shy little rose, his precious angel, and his biggest secret Alfred was so happy to know Matthew was accepted with open arms.

First it was Michelle, who hugged Alfred after Matthew, and Francis following his young, dark-skinned daughter in the process. After that, there was Mathias Kongeriget, the book shop owner, and his cousin, Emil Bondvik, two years younger than him. Emil, the same who ran the small bank in town and knew everyone but his Matthew. There was Bella de Jong, the adopted sister from Belgium, who ran the grocery, along side her tall older brother, Lars. Matthew got a hug next by Antonio, the Spaniard who built homes with his adopted son around his age, who was named Lovino Carriedo. Soon after, said grumpy Lovino hugged the Canadian with kindness, a first for everything. By the final people, Tina Väinämöinen and Berwald Oxenstierna, the married couple who ran the orphanage, the whole town had hugged his Matthew with warmth, acceptance, or to say he wasn't a monster. Or, well, a mix of all that.

Once everyone went home again, Alfred outright carried Matthew, who looked lost and confused so many people hugged him for reasons that were different and the same. They didn't kill him, and he was alive, and Alfred was here, Alfred was still here. Alfred. Alfred Kirkland, his husband Alfred, was now carrying him to where he lived in the village, or the town, or whatever it was. It really didn't matter... Matthew knew he was homeless, at least to what he knew to be his home previously, before it all burned down and he lost a large part of himself. Yes, his valued notes, belongings, that portrait his father made of his mother... They were there. The family portraits were there, too, and he knew he had saved what he loved the most, returned library books, but his parents' loved that lighthouse, he grew up there with his mother, when his father died, and now... Now he had a new home: Alfred.

Alfred was his home, his rock, his love, and, further more, his _husband_. They had the paper to prove it, though he was Madeline on the paper the holy man gave them. It was so nice not to be a secret, that the town was nicer than he feared them to be. Jeanne, his beloved mother, would be happy he was happy, despite the lighthouse gone and the belongings in a place on Matthew and Alfred knew. But it didn't matter, it never would have with her, so he was okay. Burying his face into Alfred's shoulder, Matthew gave a light smile, beginning to sing the song that brought them together, the one about the circle and the love and the hope there... Well, for them it meant that. Really, he had no idea what it meant, when his mother, his father, Francis, and Michelle did or had, but it was their to love how they wished.

And when Alfred locked the front door to an average house, when he had never lived in an average home for the majority of his life, Matthew let his week-old husband lay him on the bed that was both grand and large, better than any bed outside their honeymoon week he'd ever lain on. Reaching up, he tangled his fingers into the fabric of Alfred's shirt, a smile sheepishly as Alfred sat beside him, bringing Matthew gently into his lap, smoothing out the unruly hair. Neither spoke for a few minutes, but when one of them did, it was Alfred. "Welcome home, Mattie... I'm so happy to have you, to still be here with you, even if my father... No, we won't think about him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow night... Maybe, or at least until the funeral three days from tonight. It's just you, and me, and this bed, our house... Ours, can you believe it? Ours, yours and mine. Even if I would now take over the fur selling, I'll teach you how to, and you can also apprentice with Francis and Michelle, the blacksmith family."

Matthew gave a soft giggle, kissing Alfred in a not-quite kiss, a broad grin matching Alfred's own, his just that much more boyish. "I would love to learn something new, after teaching myself for years... Thank you, Alfred, for everything. You've taught me how to live again and not be in fear, through everything, I've gotten bolder, braver, and it's all because you believed in me, loved me like any pretty girl should have. I owe you so much, so much that I can't give back, but here we are, in a room that looks so much like what you would have... And we're going to be together for a very long time. Right?" After a few moments, he shut his eyes and kissed his lips. "I love you, Alfred Frederick Kirkland, I love you so much. Don't you dare leave me. You hear me? You're not allowed to, not when I know that everyone will let me."

Alfred rolled his eyes and kissed Matthew lightly, laying the equal-in-height blond on his back, making the kiss long and loving, not too pressing and just right to express what words would have obviously failed. "Wouldn't dream of letting someone as beautiful and perfect as you are go, Matthew _Kirkland_, not when I have you here after so much wanting you here, with me always." After Matthew kissed him again, this time on the American blond's lips, Alfred responded before breaking the kiss. Laughing softly at Matthew's pout, he kissed his forehead. "You're adorable, Mattie, I couldn't bear to part with you... It's like losing the better half of me, who can organize and be more put-together than I can. But, above all, before we go into a few rounds of passion," the American mused, tracing over Matthew's cheek and neck, placing a hand over the Canuck's heart lightly and lovingly; "Above all, _welcome home_, Matthew Williams-Kirkland. Welcome home."

**_- [To the Finale!] - _**


	10. Author's Note

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys. Things aren't going well at home right now, and I'm really stressed. I stated the chapter, yeah, but… I'll have the final chapter up next week, okay? Please forgive me, I'm sorry… I am so, so sorry. Until things get better, or I have to move again, just bear with me, yeah? I deeply apologize… And, I _will _finish it, when I'm of a sound mind to. Please, please forgive me. There's been a lot of fighting lately around here. I've not been in a good mood to write this ending… I know I've disappointed you all. Forgive me.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of note._


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